Memoirs

I was sitting here, minding my own business, checking my email, when I got my butt tagged. Flea stole a meme (you’ll have to go look to see from whom), and she just up and tagged me. Well. Harumph. Actually, I’m quite flattered that anybody’d be interested in what I have to say. I feign harumphness.

The challenge is to write my memoir in 6 words. I took Flea’s word for the true definition of a memoir and skipped straight to the thinking part, after opening the windows to vent the smoke that was bound to pour out of my ears. My first effort:

Life licked, and I licked back.

Hmm. Funny. Not bad, but kind of wet, and it’s really more what I HOPE will be rather than what IS.  At the moment, the most I’ve done is follow everyone else’s thoughts of what my life should be.  My mother demanded  that I stay an education major in college because it was safe and reliable.  That is true if you are a mindless drone a really good follower who doesn’t stand up for herself against morons question authority.

Sorry. Bitter, much? Anyway, my next thought was a little more appropriate, because it said more of my opinion of life in general.

Life bit, and I bit back.

Still with the not-so-much true as wishful, tho. Life bites, but I still haven’t taken charge and snagged my own bite in return. I started thinking less in terms of a complete sentence and more along the lines of 6 words… just… words… that tell my story, both now and for the future I hope will be, and I found them.

My memoir.

Loved hard, lost much, gained more.

Perfect.